Mundane
by Dionysus013
Summary: Three death eaters attack the wrong muggle teen. This is the story of Samuel Reid (Non- self insert, non-wish fulfillment) and the events surrounding the entrance of the magical world into his mundane life.


Mundane

Arc 1: Part 1: The first week

[Evidence #001; Exhibit A]

From the Desk of Auror Crouch to Head Unspeakable [Redacted]

Memo: Check significance of muggle arithmancy littered though out the notebook; the first half seems to be nonsense, however after the writing begins the calculations appear to have meaning. Identify and clear blood obscuring final pages. The MLE is unable to handle this with the current crime rate the war has brought on. Included I this dossier is all the information I can gather on the subject's arsenal and list of contacts. Send an operative, my bosses would rather he be brought in alive.

-Journal of Samuel [Redacted] Reid

Entry 1

Date: July/ [redacted]/1975

Mundane: 1) lacking interest or excitement; dull. 2) Of this earthly world rather than a heavenly or spiritual one.

(Oxford Dictionary)

It is how I think of myself. Mundane: unimaginative; ordinary. I've often heard people call me intelligent; in that dismissive manner that people often give compliments to other people that are out of their realm of comprehension. Yet, my intelligent related more to my ability to be dull and boring: routine in fact: Go to bed at 9 P.M. to wake up at 5 A.M. then exercise till I had to shower and go to school. I wouldn't pay attention to the teachers, or group mates, as I had already completed my course work after the first week of classes; I was too far ahead of my (lazy) peers for them to comprehend how my morbid humor worked, much less stand my cold cynicism. Nihilism is a most sacrosanct philosophy after all, even in the face of my fiercely Christian up bringing (pointless squabbling over a supreme consciousness that paradoxically seeks to unify the humanity made in its image and also condemn that same image).

My hobbies consist of working out, meditation, reading, mathematics, listening to music (classical and rock and roll), and playing various spy games that my father set up for me via "missions" given by the numerous friends he had around London.

I am sixteen; sport dashing red hair that I inherited from my Irish mother (Boudicca Reid, to whom I owe my lovely Christian upbringing and martial discipline), with my father's ([Redacted], to whom I owe my sense of practicality, self-preservation, and the well cared for Beretta M418 .25 ACP that is totally not illegal for me to have) piercingly cold blue gaze and height (~180cm last I checked).

The meat of why I am writing this is that I am currently on the run.

I am writing this because I hope to either prove my innocence or bear record to the happenings that have led to my current circumstances. I just shot and killed two men who broke into my house, at midnight, woke me up from my sleep.

Actually the screams of my mother woke me up. They were ungodly screams.

My dad had kept us in the know: that strange attacks were happening all over. He'd already been teaching me how to shoot various pistols, rifles, and shotguns of varying calibers since I could walk on top of his "spy games". So, he gave me his gun, a few clips, and some ammo boxes. Saved my life at least. Mum was a champion prizefighter, thought she could fend off any attacks; having seen her brutally beat men thrice her size to death or near in her prizefights I believed that…

The events of the night to my recollection happened as follows:

I was woken up by the aforementioned ungodly shrieking of my mother. I quickly reached under my bed and grabbed my pocket pistol and loaded it. I heard footsteps nearing my door amidst the screams, so I grabbed a cricket bat near my nightstand rather than risk losing the tactical advantage over my mum's attackers. I waited for the footsteps to reach my door, and for an assailant to open it. I wasn't disappointed, as a man in a hooded black dress and golden skull mask entered. I struck the side of his head with the bat, and he crumpled to the floor unconscious. Then I slowly went to the source of the screams. I peeked through a crack in the door seeing two men of similar dress in white skull masks; one of the men had a stick pointed at my screaming mum, while the other had his pants down, thrusting. I shot the both of them twice each from the doorway, their chest and throats burst into blooming red flowers. My mother's screams ended as the one pointing his stick to her dropped the odd tool in surprise. I calmly walked over to the dying men, and proceeded to shoot them twice more each, making certain that they were good and dead.

My mother appeared to be in a vegetative state. Whatever they had done had broken her on both a psychological and physiological scale. It hurt seeing her like that.

Seeking answers I checked their pockets, removed their masks, and completely undressed them; hoping for clues as to their affiliations or reasoning for their attacks. I was rewarded with four pouches each, two sticks in addition to the ones on the floor next to them, and matching tattoos of a snake _intertwining_ itself through a skull; a moving tattoo, what the hell, right?

Acting quickly as the realization that I just killed two men with an illegal firearm hit me I grabbed the items that I looted from the men, ran upstairs, stepped over the unconscious man, grabbed my school bag, emptied it, and packed clothes for two days into it as well as my loot. I looted the unconscious man as well and placed once more two pouches and wands into the bag. Still having room in the bag I piled in a few choice books as well as a service kit for my pistol, ammo, and clips. Finished packing I quickly changed into simple jeans, a plain blue tee, and tied a naval diver's knife (a simple Typhoon pic knife; a gift from my Uncle Boothroyd [Memo: Redact?]). I threw on a grey zip up hoodie to protect myself from the night chill as well as conceal my weapons.

Using some duct tape I sealed shut the mouth of my newest friend as well as thoroughly binding his hands behind his back and ankles together.

Grabbing my mom's car keys I stuffed my friend in the boot and drove off. Stole a shopping cart from a shopping mall and ditched the car about five miles away. After placing my friend in the cart I secreted us away to a now defunct gang hideout, avoiding any homeless folk- so as to avoid detection from one of my numerous non related uncles (bloody homeless network).

I really spruced up the place to spend some quality time with my new friend, to get to know him.

Entry 2

Date: 7/ [Redacted/1975

As you can see, it has been a little under a week since I got to know my new friend, the intelligent Abraxas of the noble and most pure house of Malfoy. When asked why his house was French for bad faith he related to me some tale about the Norman Invasion that rather neatly explained some mysterious parts of history.

More informative than my friend has been has been what was in the six pouches (that are way bigger on the inside than the outside; totally storing my affects in one as they fit neatly in my pocket) I've obtained. Strange gold and silver coins and books. The most notable book for now being _Artes of the Minde_ , which while written in a rather poor excuse for English details an interesting variation of the method of loci. Being a fan of meditation and having already constructed a mind palace I assimilated the information rather easily. The hard part has been clouding over my thoughts; thus occluding my mind. The last chapters of the book talk about penetrating one's mind utilizing eye contact and 'magic.' Since I likely have no 'magic' I will not be actively performing Legilimancy, however, there is a technique that does not require 'magic' that can be used by occlumens to turn the 'magic' of a legilimens upon themselves; it is bit to advanced for my tastes, considering how healthy chats with my friend have netted nearly me all the information that I need, now that I have some idea of the questions I need to ask.

I feel safe with the idea that I can shunt aside my chair bound friend's probes.

I have gained a plethora of information from my friend; in fact this little notebook cannot contain the volume of information.

In short though, there is a world alongside ours that we cannot see.

There is a war being fought ineffectually in that world that the arrogant residents believe will decide the fate of both worlds.

Really it doesn't make any sense to me.

After asking my friend Abraxas the bare bones definition of what a pure blood is (a magical whom has magical grandparents), I then posited the question: Why would a race seek to diminish it's population and gene pool when it seeks to overcome a race with a far greater population? Furthermore, why would a race seek stagnation of ideas rather than the free flow of thought that has rapidly advanced the non-magical races?

In a typical display of intelligence known to my friend Abraxas he replied that he never really thought of matters in such a way, to paraphrase, and that the answer to the former question lies in the answer to the latter: 'Magic' is based on precise procedures passed on via traditions, with the people in power holding knowledge being old and resistant to new ideas, thereby setting a self-perpetuating precedent that exists on both sides of the current war. With such resistance to ideas on both sides it is nearly impossible for one to rise to power as new blood without playing the patronage system. Therefore established bloodline based alliances and guilds stranglehold politics and economics respectively.

Having all of my questions answered I repacked my possessions and asked him for directions to Diagon Alley.

He gave them to me without coercion secure in the knowledge that the anti-muggle (I feel insulted) wards would keep me out.

I will soon face his chair away from the exit and place his wand in his hand from behind, keeping my gun to the back of his head. He knows I can easily kill him.

Then I will leave unmolested for a laundromat, so that I may begin a shopping trip.

Entry 3

Date: 7/ [Redacted]/ 1975

It has been a little over a day since my last entry. I am currently rooming in a pub called the Leaky Cauldron, it is literally the entryway to Diagon Alley. One merely has to tap the bricks in the correct pattern with a stick, wand, to gain entry. Merging observation of a magical tapping out the sequence, as well as what Abraxas told me; I can now easily enter and exit the alley of my own volition.

Although I seek not to return here for some time, lest Abraxas finds me and attacks from a position of power.

Instead I endeavor to do some shopping, as with my understanding of wizarding technology (artifice really, as they create artifacts rather than updatable tech) I will be able to purchase items that will give me a home as well as valuable knowledge.

I have already done some shopping and information gathering. I have walked into a book store named Flourish and Blot's, wherein I obtained copies of all of their books of mathematics, arithmancy in their tongue. Upon making my purchase, the shop keep recommended that I purchase books on runes, which I did. I then grabbed a few tomes on alchemy and potions. I left the shop after asking the man where I could obtain potentially restricted books on the subjects I had already purchased. Giving the man a hefty amount of gold on top of what I already paid netted me the information that he was initially reluctant to give (likely dropped a little over 200 of the gold coins at the store, Gallons I believe they are called (Edit: they are called Galleons) barely dented the massive amount of gold in the gold pouch I got from Abraxas). With a spring in my step and books in the bottomless pouch I went to Nocturne Alley; where I stabbed a hag (little did I know it was an actual Hag until later on after my shopping spree when the magical police (Aurors) show up; such slow response times) in the heart after she accosted my person. Pushing her to the wall to lie against it I eased my knife out, cleaning it off on her robes. No one else moved towards me, giving me a wide birth as I made my way to Shady Shelves, and then Borgin and Burkes.

At both shops I was treated rudely, and no doubt paid 3 times the required amount of gold for the no doubt already pricey restricted tomes. After a bit of studying of the tomes, it may all be worth it; will have to give more information in a later entry. Before I tackle the harder theory in the restricted tomes I must first understand the basic theory contained within the lesser tomes.

I have many weeks of reading ahead of myself.

My plans for later in the day are to purchase a tent, apparently there are ones that are huge on the inside- ranging from house side to quarter manse sized. I seek to buy one of the latter. After that I will go to the bank to deal with the goblins, exchange the gold from the lesser death eater's pouches into good old fashioned pounds. As the exchange rate benefits the exchange of galleons to pounds (1:8 respectively) rather than pounds to galleons (5:1) (one would think the gold were more worthwhile to the goblins or something).

After making such an exchange I will likely have a little over 800 pounds; with which I will endeavor to purchase water and various non-perishable food items with plenty left over for me to hail a cab to transport me to a forest (I will not say which one, as I now must plan for secrecy, events in the last entry have made me less fearful of the mundane law enforcement, and substantially more fearful of becoming a target in a war where a few quick words can kill with precision on a scale that ranges from focused to massive).

Author's Note: I am having trouble with my primary fic that I am working on. So I decided to make a prequel. This is that aforementioned prequel. The first few chapters will be written in journal form until Samuel 'runs out' of pages in his mathematics notebook (after that it is up to the readership to decide if I should switch viewpoints/styles; although I hope to have a 3rd person viewpoint that isn't hovering over Sam's shoulder, maybe an Operative will catch up to him and spy on him). As you can see he isn't the average muggle. He has martial and tactics training as well as an incredible intelligence. He is too intelligent, to the point where all of his friends are far older- haven't decided whether to make that a developmental point yet. All of the redacted parts are edits done by the Unspeakables' Special Operations Department; like I have seen in other fanfictions I seek to have a wizard analogue to MI6 that interacts with MI6 to protect the country from foreign and domestic threats. The edited parts are for operational security (or I am just lazy). My endgame is to make Voldemort evolve tactically and ideologically from a basilisk throwing its weight around to sow general fear into something more cunning; with a plan that truly would support conquering the world in a sustainable fashion since Tom is all about that immortality.

Samuel will achieve this by becoming something more than mundane, and slightly psychopathic; as he strives to find a way to add magic to his arsenal in order to take revenge on those who wish to attack defenseless people, and more importantly himself and his family.

I have left clues in this as to who Samuel's father is; the final clue is that Sam doesn't have his father's last name and is a bastard.

Have a great day (or night) everyone; and don't forget to drop a review.


End file.
